The next day, Oswald rode past the house, and looked closely at the lattices, but without seeing anything. As he returned, however, somewhat disappointed, he saw the master of the house mount at the door, and with three or four attendants, ride slowly off in the direction of Scutari. Oswald put spurs to his horse, and galloping past them, as soon as he got out of sight turned down a bye-path, and returned by a circuit to the main road again. He found he had struck it about a couple of hundred yards to the north of the house. His object was to see if his inamorata was an occupant of that house, or if he had been mistaken. He stopped for a moment to consider how he could attract her attention. At length the thought came into his head that he would ride very slowly by, singing at the top of his voice.

The experiment succeeded. Just as he came opposite the windows, he saw a lattice open about two inches, and the same lovely face, which, for the last week had so haunted him, showed itself for an instant uncovered, and then disappeared. He turned in his saddle, he did not like to stop for fear of exciting suspicion, and gazed wistfully at the window for a sign that he had been recognised. He was rewarded by seeing the next instant a white hand protruded, waved, and then quickly withdrawn.

The next day, at exactly the same hour, he again passed the house, taking care, however, by making a long circuit, to pass it only once, and thus avoid being noticed. Again he sang the same song, again the lattice opened for an instant; but this time he carried off a token that his admiration was returned. As before, the lattice was opened only to give a momentary glimpse of the beautiful girl, but the next instant a flower fell into the road, almost at his feet. He dropped his whip as an excuse for dismounting, and carefully concealing the trophy, rode off with it to camp. On his arrival, he summoned his Greek servant, and asked him what the flower signified. He said he did not know, but would find out for him in the course of the evening. Oswald enjoined the greatest secrecy and discretion, promising him that if he found him silent and true, he would give him a handsome present, but swearing that he would break every bone in his body if the matter got wind.

A few hours later, Demetrius returned with the information that the flower meant "I love you," bringing with him, at the same time, a complete key to the language of flowers, which he had obtained from one of his country women, who frequently acted as gobetween for Turkish ladies in their amours.

On the morrow he repeated his ride, placing the flower conspicuously in his forage-cap. Again the lattice opened as before, but this time was not closed so quickly. Nor did he return without another gage d'amour. As he rode by, a pomegranate fell from the window above, and Oswald, being a good cricketer, managed to catch it ere it reached the ground. When he had got out of sight he examined the fruit, and found that it had been partly cut and

then joined together again. Inside was another flower, which, on referring to his key, he discovered meant, "I am pining to see you." Acting on this unmistakeable invitation, he at once sent off Demetrius to get what information he could about the owner of the house, the names of his wives, his habits, hours, &c., and also to see if he could not, by some means, through his, Demetrius' country woman, obtain for Oswald an interview with the young lady. Our hero desired his servant to spare no money, for not only was he really, for the time, very much in love with the fair Turk, but his natural spirit of romance was awakened. He knew he was entering on a difficult and hazardous adventure, but the very difficulty and danger only spurred him on the more, and fanned into a flame that which, without these incentives, would have been but an evanescent spark.

The next morning, Demetrius came to report progress. He had ascertained that the owner of the house was a rich old Turk, who had been formerly a jewel merchant in the bazaar, but who had now retired from business. He also possessed another house in Stamboul proper, but, during the summer months, preferred what may be called his little villa on the Bosphorus. The name of the old gentleman was Osman, and he was very fond of going about visiting from friend to friend. He had three wives, which was an evidence of his wealth and position; for a poor Turk can't afford more than one spouse. The youngest and the favourite of the three was Oswald's flame, a Georgian girl who had been carried off by a hostile tribe. about a year ago, and sold into slavery. She was far from being a willing captive, Demetrius asserted, though her husband lavished presents on her, and was perfectly bewitched by her beauty.

This repugnance of the fair Georgian was very incomprehensible to Demetrius, "for," said he, "most of these Circassians and Georgians look on being sold at Constantinople as the best piece of good fortune that can happen to them. Just like English ladies, master; for I have travelled plenty, and seen London, and the Queen, and the Lord Mayor, and the Thames Tunnel, and St. Paul's, and everything just like English ladies, who want to get married because thing-just they think they get rich husband. These Circassians and Georgians they all hope they marry great man. Perhaps Osman not great man enough, because he not pasha; perhaps Haidée, that lady's name, Sar, she no like old man, like young man like your excellency."

Oswald felt very much inclined to kick Demetrius for the last remark and the grin which accompanied it, but dissembling his wrath, he asked him whether he had seen his countrywoman, and whether she was willing to be useful.

"I saw her, Sar, and she say she very glad help your excellency. She go to house to-day, make friends with servants, see lady; promise come and tell me everything to-night."

Oswald was obliged to be content with the information he had received, and to wait patiently till evening. In the meantime, after

parade, paying his company, and some other little matters, he took his usual ride towards the "sweet waters," wearing this time in the breast of his coat, the last flower he had received. This time he had a better view of her than ever, for continued impunity had made her bold. As usual, she threw him down a flower, which, as by this time he had learnt the language of love-tokens by heart, he recognised as meaning "Come quickly, or I die." "Come quickly, or I die." He picked it up, and pressing it to his heart, kissed his hand to the lovely girl, who, drawing back from the window, waved hers in return.

That night, after dinner, Demetrius informed him that his countrywoman wanted to see him in the little village of Pasha Keuy, which was about three-quarters of a mile from the camp of the 155th. She had seen Haidée, she said, and arranged a means of obtaining for Oswald an interview with her two days hence.

FROM LONDON TO PERSEPOLIS.

"A great book is a great evil," says some writer; on the other hand, it may be said with equal truth, that a great book is a great good. The truth of the latter version receives a practical illustration in the case of Mr. Ussher's Journey from London to Persepolis, with his incidental wanderings in Daghestan, Georgia, and Armenia, and among the Kurds and Persians. A work is often described as a monument of literary skill, but this is a monument in that sense, and in a more literal one, for its dimensions are such as to startle one from its rarity, and it is not until we get well into it, that we begin to regret that every leaf, notwithstanding its vastness, brings us nearer to its ending.

A very cursory record is given of his journey from London along the beaten track, through the Principalities, where the chief objects that attract attention, are the bead-covered breasts of the women, their novel costumes, and the present appearance of Silistria, which bears but few traces of the siege to which it was subjected by the Russians. The Principalities were quitted at Galatz, the neighbourhood of which is so famous for the abundance of its frogs, that the croaking of those of Aristophanes, were but as the faint whisperings of the gentlest breeze, to the roar of a cyclone in comparison. The first place arrived at after leaving Galatz, was Odessa, where the author was introduced to the Princess Woronzoff, and by her to the Princess Orbeliani, whose capture by Schamyl may have had more to do with the cruel policy pursued by the Russians towards his countrymen during the last ten years, than he could possibly have foreseen. There was nothing of much interest to describe until Sebastopol was reached. Here there are subjects which will never cease to be regarded with interest by Englishmen. Thanks to Colonel Gowan, the American, (who, with such men as Commo

dore Tatnall, make us, by their good deeds, pardon the bluster of many whom they have the misfortune to call their countrymen) the cemeteries have been kept in decent order, and something more. Cypresses mark the spot where General Cathcart is buried, and many of the nameless dead have roses and other flowers blooming above them, especial attention having been given to that of the brave young Christian, Captain Hedley Vicars.

Colonel Gowan's business at Sebastopol, as will be remembered, was to raise the vessels sunk in the harbour by the Russians themselves. At the time of Mr. Ussher's visit, he had raised in all fortysix vessels, only two of which could be repaired so as to be fit for use, in consequence of the ravages made in them by the little worms which crowd the depths of the Black Sea. As for Sebastopol, it still remains a mere heap of ruins.

The desolation which the allies left behind them at Sebastopol, is not less visible at Kertch. The museum still remains in the half ruinous state to which it was reduced by the destructive propensities of soldiers and sailors, too ignorant to place any value on its contents, and though some relics of the ancient inhabitants of the Crimea still remain there, nearly all the objects now discovered are sent to the museum at St. Petersburgh, to be added to the numerous beautiful gold ornaments sent there before the arrival of the allied expedition. The intrinsic value of the ornaments dug out of the tumuli at this place, is almost incredible; our countryman was told of one mound lately excavated, from which gold ornaments were dug out weighing in the aggregate one hundred pounds.

The journey through Mingrelia was attended with hardships, the account of which is not likely to induce many travellers to proceed to that country in quest of new adventures, especially as there is little of interest to be seen there. The most curious circumstance mentioned in the narrative of this part of the journey, is the existence at Maran of a sect (some hundreds of whom, we have been told by a surgeon who served in the Baltic Fleet, were taken prisoners by us and our allies during the operations in that sea in the last war) who show the sincerity of their religious convictions by becoming eunuchs. According to Baron Haxthansen, they are called Skoptzi, and entertain very peculiar ideas concerning the Bible, believing the true gospel, once in their exclusive possession, to have been hidden in the wall of the church of St. Andrew, at St. Petersburgh, by Peter the Third, whom they claim as their head, and whom they believe to have been an emanation of Christ. They believe that the Son is inferior to the Father, but was consecrated and sanctified by Him; that he was never crucified as related in the Gospels, but yet wanders on earth, without sex, in one form or another; the last assumed by him being that of Peter the Third, who, at the time when he was supposed to have been put to death, fled to Irkutsk, from whence he will shortly return, and ringing the

great bell of the Church of the Ascension, in the Kremlin at Moscow, summon all the Skoptzi on earth to come and reign with him for ever. Not keeping the Sabbath as a day of rest, they practice a number of secret ceremonies on the night of Saturday, singing hymns, &c. They possess a number of portraits of Peter the Third, who is represented bare-headed, with black beard and blue kaftan. They are very zealous in making converts; any one who persuades twelve other persons to join them, becoming in consequence an apostle. There is a considerable number of them in Russia, who first marry, and only become completely initiated after the birth of a son. The Emperor Nicholas did not approve of their principles, and caused as many as could be discovered to be seized and used up in a variety of ways. Several hundreds were sent to defend the island captured by us in the Baltic, to which we have already referred, others were sent to Siberia, and a still larger number were sent to the Caucasus, where they were organized as a penal corps. A portion were sent to Maran, where they are employed in baking bread for the Russian troops, and set an example to the people of the surrounding places by their good conduct, their honesty, and their sobriety. Making bakers of the Skoptzi, indeed, appears to be a favourite method of employing them. At Schamachi, a long distance from Maran, there was a good bakery, where none others than members of this sect were employed. It would scem as though the segregation of a comparatively small number of individuals from the surrounding population, has a tendency to produce, or at any rate to maintain, the good qualities of the Skoptzi, the same characteristics distinguishing a colony of Gerinans settled near Tiflis, who keep themselves quite separate from the mixed population of the city, where the traveller meets with representatives of nearly every nation, from the purple haired Persian, to the European, who dresses as carefully as though he were still within hearing of the Horse-Guards' clock. So great is the variety of costume at this place, that the traveller on visiting the theatre, might imagine himself at a fancy dress ball.

We are so accustomed to hear of obstacles being put in the way of travellers on Russian territory, and of the necessity of removing them by the use of bribes if you want to get along, that it is quite pleasant to journey with Mr. Ussher, who met with the most obliging civility from the postmasters stationed on the different routes he traversed. Of course he had to undergo the usual hardships incident to travel in those parts of the world, such as vehicles to journey in by day, which jolt so much that even the natives cannot endure it long, and are generally bumped to death at a comparatively early age, and boards to sleep on at night in places where sheets are unknown, and a man puts on his overcoat to sleep in. But whatever difficulties he met with he makes light of, and he gets along so easily that if it were not for the picturesque scenes he describes we might almost suppose him to be pursuing his course